Misadventures of Rowan
by IronKissed
Summary: Shorts involving Clodagh Rowan before she becomes a Strawhat Pirate
1. Chapter 1

**See Author's Note on profile to get update on Sail the Ocean Blue.**

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 **Chapter One: Arrival**

She came to them from the sea aboard the Cardinal. Just like how Conor had come to them and how Dennis had come before him.

She was small. So very, very small. Swaddled in a thick blanket to keep out the ocean's cold winds, only her face was visible. Her eyes were shut in sleep that seemed fitful with her bold lips pressed tightly. Chubby cheeks rosy from the wind and sun. Tuffs of red hair stuck to her forehead with sweat and salty spray.

The moment she was given to him, Dennis cupped her close to his chest were he nestled her in the crook of his arm. He hunched in around her with his gangly teenage width as if his body could provide all the protection she would ever need. The babe, barely two months old, was completely oblivious to Dennis' realization in that moment that the girl won his heart and total devotion within seconds with soft snores and twitching eyelids.

"She's beautiful," he whispered, awe drenching his words while his heart worked its way up into his throat.

"Isn't she?" his father chuckled, beaming down at his eldest and youngest. Dennis couldn't look away from the small bundle, choosing to run a callused thumb down her chubby cheek while he said,

"I had no idea—"

"Me 'either. I visited yer ma on 'e way 'ome and 'ere she was ready ta burst. It was sheer dumb luck on my part I was 'ere ta see 'e birth." His father's hand, still so massive and strong in his aging mind, reached out to cup what little of the girl's head Dennis' elbow didn't cradle. "'er name is Rowan."

Dennis couldn't help but laugh at that. Fiachra smirked as well. Dennis didn't need to look up to know said smirk pulled just so at his father's scar, the one that cut from his chin up to the left side of his mouth.

"A redhead in a sea of redheads," Dennis continued with a chortle. Either the sound of their voices or the shaking of Dennis' chest had the babe waking. Dennis felt his lips stretch from ear to ear as his own green eyes met hers. Unable to focus well just yet, Rowan stared up at Dennis with her bottom lip pouted out. He watched her take him in to the best of her abilities before glancing over at their father. It was painfully obvious to both men that the girl was not pleased with her current surroundings.

The powerful squalls that rang from her little lungs were fierce and ear splitting.

"I see we have been joined by another."

"Nesas! 'ow ye been?" Dennis smiled around his wince as he looked upon the aging woman. Her face was the stereotypical blank, non-giving, expression it usually was when dealing with his father. The man appeared to take no notice and planted a kiss on the wrinkled cheek.

"I suppose a warning would have been too much," Nesas commented drily, eyeing the still screaming baby. Rowan had worked her arms out of her blanket and were throwing them about her head in her tantrum state, face now a brilliant shade of red.

"Was a bit of a shock to us all actually." Nesas let out a short but clear huff before striding past Fiachra and slipping the baby into her own arms with years upon years of practice ease. Rowan continued to squall to her heart's content.

"Yes child, we all hear you quite clearly. Come let us see about getting you feed and cleaned."

"Amazin' 'ow quick she takes to ya kids. Poor woman." Dennis laughed along with his father as the two walked from the main hall.

"How was your trip Da?"

"Eh, 'ow is any trip with Marines tail skirting me like I'm a pirate or somethin'." It was impossible to stop the eye roll.

"Perhaps if you didn't look like such a villain while saying something like that…" Dennis grunted as his father threw his massive arm around his neck and pulled him against his chest. The hard fist smashing into the top of his head and giving him a fierce noggy had him squawking.

"Turnin' against 'er own da! That be that old peacock peckin' away at 'er sensibilities."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Sorry about the late update! Crazy weekend. Hope you enjoy!**

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 **Chapter Two: Big Brothers**

Conor didn't enjoy change. Change meant things were going to be different. It meant that a strict schedule he kept to rigorously was going to be interrupted in ways he couldn't predict and therefore couldn't control.

Rowan was change.

And a tremendous one at that.

Everything changed the day she came to his island aboard the Cardinal in his father's arms. She was the size of a house cat and she caused the same destruction to his schedule as a hurricane smashing into their shores. Nesas was now too busy to help him, no longer cratering to him but rather constantly carting around the useless meatloaf. She was no longer a mix of sweet smelling treats and clean water; now she was a horrendous mixture of baby and sour milk. His father, who barely had enough time to spend with him as it was, made sure he was with the lump of cringe worthy screams in any of his free moments. His friends who were supposed to be there for _him_ were now wanting nothing more than to see the destroyer of noses. Even his own brother was swept up in the putrid bundle's magic, constantly talking about her and holding her and _being with her._ Everywhere he went all he heard was 'Rowan this' and 'Rowan that' and 'Aren't you happy to be a big brother?'

No.

No he was not.

It was why he finally decided enough was enough. His father had been back for the past two months and they hadn't spared _once._ He hadn't helped him with his shooting or his wrestling and Conor was _sick of it._ So here he stood, in an open meeting room where his father and his men along with his brother that Conor decided to take his stand. The screamer was in his father's arms just like he thought she'd be. A bottle was held to her mouth were she was suckling away like a piglet. The noise of her feeding was just audible over the adults in the room discussing matters of state. Something about the caribou on the other side of the northern mountains. Conor would have to figure out more later.

"Father," he started with, frowning when the man didn't look to him. Some would have called his pout a frown but Conor was not one of them. He walked forward and placed himself in the man's direct line of sight. "Father," he said with more power. Green eyes flashed up from the bottle feeding monster.

"Hmm? Oh, 'ello Conor. What 'ave ya been up ta?"

"Father I want to train with you." Conor watched as his father smiled at him, but his eyes were back on the meatloaf suckling away with vigor.

"'Fraid it'll 'ave to wait. 'M a tad busy at 'e moment."

"You have been home for two weeks and we've not yet trained together," Conor reminded him, trying his best to ignore the rising ire he could feel bubbling up in his stomach. But Fiachra was no longer looking at him, rather he had been distracted by someone asking a question. Feeling his father's attention leaving him, Conor pushed himself closer and tapped the man on the leg. "Father."

"Conor, 'm 'avin' a conversation. Yer gonna 'ave to wait."

Later Conor would feel foolish and ashamed of allow his anger to get the best of him. Only children and fools let their emotions grab hold and dictate their actions. But the red hot slick of shame worming its way up from his belly erupted so quickly at the second dismissal Conor was able to do anything but lash out. It was simply a matter of poor timing and ill luck that the moment Conor struck out with a hand, Fiachra moved in his seat. Therefore, instead of hitting the muscular thigh of his father the young boy's open palm slapped down on a chunky belly full of milk.

The precious second of silence as everyone in the room registered what had happened was the only thing Conor was able to comprehend for the next several seconds. The bundle of weird smells held a peculiar look on her face in that one second before her face flushed as deep a red as her hair. The scream that bellowed from her lungs was nothing Conor had ever heard before. Arms were flung and great tears rolled down chubby cheeks.

Then the next thing Conor knew Rowan was no longer in front of him, nor was his father. His arm was being held up high, putting him on his tiptoes and his backside was screaming as his father's hand left it. The pain brought surprised tears to his eyes before his father's thick hand was bearing down on his neck and dragging him from out of the room.

The boy was deposited in his room and the last thing he saw of his father was a stone face that somehow still portrayed an inhumane amount of rage.

"Ye'll stay 'ere till I get ya."

The door slammed shut with enough force to shake the hinges.

It was only after the sun had set, many hours later that Conor's door opened. From his spot under his bed Conor waited with baited breath and no small amount of dissatisfies. The stone floor swallowed the majority of sound as someone walked into the room and stopped. It was the bed moving on its heavy frame that alerted Conor to someone sitting down on the mattress.

"Ya gonna hide or talk ta me?" his father's voice asked from above, no longer full of barely concealed wrath but still holding an edge that had Conor hunkering down. A moment of silence before a deep sigh. "Why did ya lash out boy?" Conor felt like saying nothing for a moment, stewing in his cocktail of embarrassment and self-righteous a resentment. But the logical voice in the back of his head knew that that would accomplish nothing and a part of him wanted to voice his own greviances.

"You weren't payin' attention," he muttered into his folded arms, voice muffled in the crook of his arm.

"So ya lashed out an' 'it yer sister?" Conor gritted his teeth.

"I didn't mean to hit her!" he snapped, forgetting for a moment his own fear of the angered parent.

"But ya did."

"You weren't payin' attention! You 'aven't paid attention to me since you came home! Ever since _it_ got 'ere you replaced me!" Tears burned in the corner of his eyes. He bit his lip to keep them from falling but he knew it was a losing battle.

Conor sucked on a sob trying his hardest to stop it from breaking lose while a heavy arm wrapped around his back. The familiar weight was all it took for the dame to break and massive tears began to cascade down his cheeks. His little chest jerked with wrecking cries.

"'ush boy," his father whispered, deep voice wrapping around him just as warm as the arm. Said appendage pulled him into a strong chest and cupped the back of his head. "'m sorry. Yer right. I 'aven't been givin' ya the attention ya needed. 'n I was wrong ta do 'at." Conor's sobs turned to sniffles as he sucked in deep breaths of the familiar scent of salt and metal. "'n ya 'aven't been replaced boy. Yer my little genius. No one can replace ya. Rowan is just a babe. She needs ta be 'eld an' babes take a lot 'o work. But 'at's no reason fer me to let ya go on thinkin' yer not just as loved. 'm sorry I've been distant. Don't let yer anger at me color yer opinion of yer sister. 'fter all she's gonna need 'er big brother."

Conor was happy his sobs were finished and felt the heavy weight of exhaustion start to pull on his eyelids. Careful so he didn't hurt either of them, Fiachra pulled them out from underneath the bed. He then proceeded to sit on it and continued to cradle the boy against his chest. Conor barely realized the door was opened until Dennis' voice floated in,

"We good?"

"I think so." Conor opened his eyes and found his brother smiling down at him, his arms full of sleeping baby.

"She's fine," he said easily spotting the flush on his brother's cheeks that didn't come from crying. "Just a tad irritated I believe. She's a strong little ox." The chest under his head vibrated with a chuckle.

"Just like 'er brothers." Dennis moved just so, allowing Conor to get a good look at his sister's sleeping face.

"Ya know, I just realized I haven't been tellin' you about all the stuff we gotta do."

"Huh?"

"Well I'm gonna need yer help teach little Ro here. Me and you, we're gonna have to help her out quite a bit just like I did you. We're gonna have to teach her to walk and how ta talk and even how to fight. Then we'll have to teach her the more important things like the best spot to hide from Nesas when ya've eaten all the sweets. Or the best place to find honey or where to sit to watch the caribou when the youngin's are startin' to run about. What do you say Conor? Will you help me?"

Conor stared at the little face swaddled by a blanket. Eyes shut tight with a little scowl still in place despite her being deep in slumber Rowan looked fit enough to wake up any moment and start howling again.

It was staring at her now, surrounded by his family that Conor decided something.

He was going to make that scowl disappear.

And she'd only ever have reason to laugh in his presence from then on.

After all, he was her big brother.


End file.
